


Jersey Werewolves and Hawaiian Heat

by OldManHorseFace



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Danny needs a break, Gen, Mild canon divergence, Mū!Chin, Mū!Kono, Not intended to be but characterization is hard, Possibly OOC, Siren!Steve, Vampire(ish)!Toast, Werewolf!Danny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2020-06-30 05:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19846456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldManHorseFace/pseuds/OldManHorseFace
Summary: Danny is entirely too tired to deal with having no pack on a full moon, let alone dealing with an insane navy SEAL who thinks protocol is a suggestion and backup is a myth. Yet here he is, doing it anyway, because since when has the universe ever given a shit about what he can and can't do on 7 hours of sleep over 4 days?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is basically just the first episode, but fantasy. Because I have a thing for fantasy AUs and there are not enough of them here. At the moment, it's just a one-shot, but I might add more as time goes on. This is unbeta'd, so if there are any mistakes or you have any questions, please let me know!
> 
> Also, here's a little reference of the creatures I mention that you might not know:
> 
> Mo’o - Aquatic shifters with the ability to shapeshift into lizards of various size. Can control water and cause highly localized weather events. 
> 
> Mū - A mix between a water imp and a vampire. Run in packs. Related to the European vampire, except mū have gills, webbed digits, and an extra, transparent eyelid. They can be sensitive to fresh or chlorinated water, especially when ingested.
> 
> Qilin - Essentially dragons with hooves and no wings. Have a single horn running from their foreheads and thick manes that trail down to their midbacks. Also have a tuft of hair at the end of their tails. Are furred, except for plating running along their undersides and nose. May or may not have whiskers.

Danny knows his day is going to suck as soon as he gets out of bed. He doesn't wake up, of course, because that would require having gone to sleep the night before; something that doesn't happen when your insomnia tells you to go fuck yourself for two weeks.

His shower is ice cold to shock him awake, (which works absolutely not at all) and his coffee is scalding hot to do the same (which does work, if only from the caffeine). By the time he's dressed, he's awake enough that he trusts himself to drive, mostly.

He's mindful to grab the huge bunny he bought for Gracie. She's always loved rabbits, whether it was snuggling them or chasing them, and he really needs to see that bright smile on her face if he's going to make it through today. There's a familiar itch of fur beneath his skin -- an ever-present annoyance with a full moon rising at sundown -- and his instincts are taking increasing precedence.

 _Fuck_ , he needs to see his little girl.

He scrounges together his service weapon and his keys, makes sure he's not forgetting anything else, then heads over to Rachel and Stan's mansion. On the way, he nearly gouges marks into his steering wheel during a phone call trying to make headway on the McGarrett case, something that's been looming over his head since it was assigned to him. Apparently, everyone and their dog loved the guy, and he really isn't looking to be shunned even more for dropping the ball on it.

By the time he pulls up to Gracie's house, he's done, and he can barely get himself out of the car in a normal manner when he sees her coming down that long driveway. The instinct to shift runs up his spine (because a big, bad wolf is so much better for defending his pup than weak, human Danny) but he pushes it down and scoops his little girl up into a hug instead. He nuzzles his face into her hair and drinks in her scent, floral and earthy and... prey-like?

He pauses only long enough for Grace to press her face into his neck in turn, then pulls away to see one large, white rabbit in a carrier clutched in her hand. Its nose twitches nervously, but it's calm other than that.

Well, _shit_.

"Who's that?" Danny plasters on some fake joy like a bit of him didn't just wither and die.

"Mr. Hoppy!" declares Grace proudly. "Step-Stan bought him so I can take him to show-and-tell."

"...Good ol' Step-Stan." Danny's smile is tight and doesn't quite reach his eyes.

With a few quick words, fancy footwork, and a genuine grin (because he can't stay any sort of upset with his little pup's giggles in his ears and her smell in his nose), he gets that stupid, stuffed thing into the backseat and his Gracie into the front without her noticing. The thing is odorless, for the most part, and the car smells too strongly of him to notice it anyway. Nonetheless, as a distraction, he cranks the radio and they sing Sinatra together as they drive along. The verses are more hummed than sang, and their pitch is abysmal, but there's a grin on both their faces that they can't wipe off.

Too quickly, they reach Gracie's school. Excited to show off Mr. Hoppy, she's out of the car in an instant with a quick, "Bye, Danno!" Danny has to force himself not to hold the line watching her go inside and instead clings to that warm feeling in his chest. He keeps the Sinatra on, but lower now as he drives to the station.

He's only there to clock in before he heads to the McGarrett house, but the disdain is palpable from the moment he steps in. There are whispers behind his back, glares he can feel boring into his skull. He wonders if they know they're plenty loud enough for a werewolf to hear, or if they simply don't care.

He tries not to let it bother him since he's only been here a couple of months. After all, it's not like his precinct in Newark was super close when he first got started, either. There, however, the air wasn't nearly as tense. If they weren't friendly, there were certainly tolerable. No such thing here, and it's even more obvious whenever his instincts start to rise to the surface.

He leaves (see: flees) the precinct as fast as he can manage and heads off to his crime scene. It takes the whole ride there to calm himself down, to ground himself in logic instead of the raging current of emotion.

Honestly, _fuck_ the full moon.

His mood worsens as he walks up to the McGarrett house. He can smell something off, something new. Not the usual smell of the CSI units or the other officers or the ambient scent of Hawaii -- this is more salty, like ocean concentrate. It puts a nasty taste in his mouth, both because salt water is fucking disgusting and also because that means there's someone trespassing on his crime scene.

He creeps into the house, nose leading him straight to the garage. After a moment's hesitation to draw his gun, he bursts through the door with a loud, "Hands up! Don't move!"

Immediately, the stranger -- a tall, dark-haired man -- looks up from the toolbox he's fiddling with and draws a gun (because _of course_ he has a gun, why would any part of Danny's life ever be easy?) and shouts back, "Who are you?!"

"Who are you?!" Danny fires back, the instinct to shift hot beneath his skin.

The questions devolve into a shouting match in which Danny learns that the sea-water-smelling prick is one Steve McGarrett. He feels ever so slightly bad, since, y'know, this is the crime scene for his dad's murder, but also what sort of marine shows up to an active crime scene instead of the police station to pitch a fit? Now he's got his grubby fingerprints all over everything.

"Listen," Danny says. "I'm sorry for your loss, but this is an active crime scene. You can't be here."

"Doesn't look that active,"

Danny holds back a (very dramatic) sigh. "I'm not at liberty to say what's going on. You just have to leave, preferably without contaminating anything else."

"Can do." McGarrett grabs the toolbox and makes to leave.

"Leave the box."

"I came with this."

He's going to have a fucking stroke.

"No, you did not. I can see the dust void it left. Either you leave it here, or I'm going to arrest you."

"All right." For the briefest of moments, Danny thinks the day is looking up. Then he pulls out his phone, dials a number, and says, "Hello, Governor Jameson, please?"

"You've got the be kidding me." Danny runs a hand through his hair, He's this close to just taking this guy in. Dead dad or not, he's trampling all over police procedure.

He waits, mainly because it seems he actually has Governor Jameson on the phone. McGarrett babbles something about a task force, something about transferring to the reserves, and then _is fucking sworn in as an officer of the law._

_What the actual fuck._

Two seconds later, McGarrett hangs up, then declares, "It's my crime scene now," before taking the toolbox and leaving.

Danny has to take a long few minutes to himself after that. He is this close, this fucking close, to shifting and ripping something to shreds. It takes every ounce of self-control to walk out calmly and drive home without leaving gouges in his car

\--o--

By the time he gets home, Danny's more exhausted than angry. It's just too much work to keep being enraged, especially when he's running on so little sleep. Duke, the warm, kind alpha-but-not-quite that he is, sent him home as soon as he got back to work. His tone his gentle, though not patronizing (something Danny will forever appreciate), and he frames it as sending him home for some rest since _he's been working awfully hard since the day he transferred_ and _it'd do him some good to relax._

In reality, it has more to do with the fact that McGarrett's working his case now (something mentioned in passing) and the little lunar phases on the mo'o's calendar (something not mentioned at all, but another thing that earned Danny's eternal respect) but neither of them acknowledge it.

He's only home for an hour or two before he gets a knock at his door. He almost expects it to be Meka when he opens it -- it wouldn't be the first time he's dropped by in the middle of a workday.

It's not. It's McGarrett. Because of course it's fucking McGarrett.

There's no greeting, no opener (who needs common decency when you have the actual literal governor on speed dial?); he just launches right into asking about Fred Doran and then walks right past him into his apartment. Just barely, Danny manages to sigh instead of growl.

"This your daughter?" asks McGarrett as he lifts a photo of his pup with his grubby, ocean-smelling hands (god, he's going to have to use so much febreeze to get that scent out).

"Stunning detective work." Palpable sarcasm.

"You don't actually let her live here, do you?"

Danny has to actively remind himself that a stranger is not worth going to jail for murder. "Why are you here?" he asks, tucking his anger away into neat little boxes to deal with later.

"What do you know about Fred Doran?"

There's more than a little bit of Danny that wants to be a spiteful bitch because god, wouldn't that be immensely satisfying? Shutting steamroller McGarrett down in his tracks? Still, he's a professional. If McGarrett can solve the case, that's all that matters.

"He's a suspected arms dealer," he answers. "Two years Maui Correctional for weapons possession. Currently a person of interest in an unrelated homicide, but the weapon was never found."

"What's that got to do with my father's case?"

"I ran a ballistics comparison to the bullet that killed your dad and got a hit to the one in the Doran investigation. I think the first thing that Hesse did when he got on the island was hook up with Doran and get a gun."

"Then maybe Doran still knows where he is. Let's go." McGarrett says, and then he starts moving like that little exchange somehow made them best buddies or some shit.

"The hell do you mean by 'let's go?' Last I checked, it was your case now." hisses Danny.

"You transferred in six months ago. That means your eyes are fresh." McGarrett glances around, contempt thinly-veiled. "Fold out bed, no wedding ring. Clearly, you moved here for your daughter, which means you've got nothing else but your job between visits. You're dedicated, and that's what I'm looking for."

"Congratulations, you have basic observational skills," hisses Danny. He's getting dangerously close to doing something stupid, especially after hearing McGarrett's entitled ass rub buckets of salt in his wounds. "Still doesn't explain what the hell you mean."

"The governor gave me immunity and means, so I'm making you my partner," McGarrett answers simply. "Now, come on." And he turns and starts to leave.

Danny considers himself a saint for following silently instead of punching him in the jaw.

\--o--

They can't have been driving for more than ten minutes before he gets a call from Rachel. Naturally, he ignores it, both because she's been a bitch about visitation hours and also because he's angry enough to say something stupid and get his visits revoked entirely.

McGarrett, being the poster child of shitty social skills, decides to say, "I'm taking it your marriage didn't end too well?"

"...It could've," Danny answers (because he's certain McGarrett won't let it go until he does), "if my ex hadn't remarried and dragged my daughter off to this pineapple-infested hellhole."

"You don't like the beach?"

Huh. Maybe McGarrett has some tact after all. "I don't like the beach."

"Who doesn't like the beach?"

"Me. I like the city. Skyscrapers, no tsunamis, no jellyfish--"

"Tell me you can swim."

Or maybe he just has ADHD. Either way, Danny's thrown off enough by the question that he just stutters, "Can... Can I swim?"

"You can't swim." McGarrett's disgust shows clearly on his face.

"Of course I can swim. I swim for survival, not for fun."

His cell rings again. Rachel. Danny takes the call if only to avoid talking to McGarrett any more. "Yes, dear?"

_"...Danno? Are you mad?"_

"Oh, hey, monkey!" His tone brightens instantly, and he really can't care less about the look McGarrett gives him. "No, no, I'm sorry, I thought you were your mom."

Talking with his pup brightens his mood significantly, even with McGarrett in earshot. By the time Danny puts his phone down and turns his eyes back to the road, he'd almost call himself content.

"Who's Danno?"

And there it goes.

"Don't," Danny says simply, and he has no intention of explaining further than that.

"Okay," McGarrett says, but the way he murmurs "Danno" under his breath the next minute leaves Danny very suspicious.

The rest of the drive, thankfully, is spent in silence, and they pull up to Doran's place fifteen minutes later. Immediately, McGarrett goes to jump out with the sort of gumption only suicidal or stupid men have.

"Hey, the hell you doing?" Danny grabs his arm. "This guy, Doran? He's a shooter. We need to wait for backup."

"You are the backup," McGarrett replies, and then he leaves, and then Danny realizes he's completely serious.

What sort of suicidal bullshit has he been forcibly been dragged into?

He has to rush to get out (because as much as he hates the guy, he can't just let him die) and catch up. McGarrett's up the stairs to the house in a second, back pressed to the wall beside the door and hand motioning for Danny to take the other side. Within the house, there's muffled arguing and shouting, so he feels safe enough moving.

A few moments later, an angry-looking blond in a bikini storms out, and Danny pulls her against himself and covers her mouth. He goes to murmur something in her ear about being police, but sharp teeth digging into his hand find him letting her go instead.

She rushes to the screen door and shouts for Doran, who then fires through the flimsy walls and puts a bullet right into Danny's shoulder. The force sends Danny back into the rotting railing, which gives under his weight and sends him sprawling onto the roof of Doran's car.

His head is spinning from the impact, but he's coherent enough to hear McGarrett shouting his name.

"Go, go!" He calls back, and McGarrett does.

Then, despite wanting very much to keep laying down, Danny rolls off the car and begins following the two. He's slower, but he's not aiming to keep pace anyways. Just stay close enough to not lose them, and far enough that Doran doesn't realize he has two tails. He shoots a call to HPD in the meantime, tells them as much of the situation he can manage while sprinting with a bullet hole in his shoulder.

The call is over well before he catches up with Doran and McGarrett, which lets him slow his pace and avoid calling attention to himself. Doran has a captive, a woman from the looks of it. He's shouting threats at McGarrett and grinding the muzzle into the poor lady's skull.

Danny takes careful aim, and the second Doran relaxes and shifts the woman's head away from his, he fires. Doran drops like a stone.

For a moment, Danny's relieved, but then he spots McGarrett's wide-eyed look like he can't believe what just happened, like he really didn't think that Doran dying was a possibility.

The walk back to Doran's house is tense and silent, and there's HPD as well as an ambulance waiting for Danny when they arrive. He lets the medics drag him up and tend to his shoulder, if only just to make sure it's a through-and-through. Already, it's healing, which only surprises one of the paramedics. A fresh face, then.

"Werewolf," Danny says simply, and the paramedic's face takes on a look of awe as he bandages the wound.

The other flicks him, irritated. "Don't stare. It's rude."

"It's fine." Danny waves him off. "From what I understand, you don't get very many full shifters around here. It's part of the package."

"Still shouldn't stare." The elder paramedic says. "Anyways, be careful with this shoulder until it heals. Should be fine, considering your metabolism and that it's a through-and-through, but still be careful."

Danny hops off the bus with a nod and sets about fixing his shirt and tie before going to see McGarrett. The man immediately launches into a spiel about the girl he found in Doran's house, which, while very useful information, is really not the thing Danny wants to hear at the moment.

"Y'know," he interjects. "This is typically the part where you thank me for saving your life."

"You just shot my only lead!"

Danny's almost in shock from his disbelief. Almost. "Are you kidding me? Are you actually kidding me?"

McGarrett doesn't seem to hear him, too busy mumbling about the case, so Danny raises his voice.

"You just took a stupid risk!" He growls (and if there's some actual growl behind that, he doesn't care). "Okay?! Understand that! I am not getting myself killed for your vendetta! I have a daughter, okay?!"

"Yeah, and that girl in there is someone's daughter, too."

"You don't get it. You really don't get it. You know, for someone who just lost his father, you're pretty dense."

Whoops. Stepped right over the line. Oh well.

McGarrett finally breaks, and his face turns red as he yells, "What'd you just say to me?! What'd you just say to me?! What if she was yours, huh? Would you not do everything in your power to hunt that son of a bitch down and kill him?"

"Don't you dare question my resolve to my daughter." Danny's certain he's growling now, as he pokes his finger into McGarrett's face.

"Take your finger out of my face."

Danny sticks his finger on his chest. "Listen to me you son of a bitch--"

And then suddenly his arm is twisted painfully behind his back and he can't the grunt that escapes his lips.

"I warned you," McGarrett sneers. "Now look what you made me do in front of all these nice people."

The sheer amount of conscious effort Danny has to put into not shifting is astounding. The other officers are looking at him, doubtless curious if they'll get an excuse to tase him. He can feel his fangs poking out of his mouth, can feel how his eyes sit awkwardly in his skull. He's certain there's a tinge of color in his skin that's not quite natural, but that's the most of it.

"Now you don't have to like me, but we do have to get this job done."

"Fine, whatever, let me up." Danny hisses.

McGarrett does, and then immediately goes back into the case like this is just somehow over.

Danny is sorely tempted to claw his face, but he settles for a mean sucker punch instead, complete with all the extra strength that comes with a werewolf. "You're right," he says, stalking back to his car. "I don't like you."

\--o--

The drive back to the precinct is blessedly silent for a whole five minute before McGarrett opens his stupid mouth.

"How's the arm?"

"Let's just not talk." Danny answers. He's focusing very hard on driving because the fur and claws and fangs are sitting dangerously close beneath his skin, and drive a car a wolf cannot.

"Right now or ever again?"

"Just... both, okay? Both."

"Y'know, I think I know why your wife left you."

God. Fucking. Dammit.

"Really?"

"Yeah, you're really sensitive."

"Sensitive," Danny chuckles, because it's about the only emotional vent he has that doesn't involve serious bodily harm. "You think I'm sensitive. When did you come to the conclusion I was sensitive, huh? Was it when a bullet was tearing through my flesh? Is that when I seemed sensitive to you?"

McGarrett at least has the decency to look slightly guilty for that.

"I am really happy you're not afraid of anything, okay? I'm so glad that you're so emotionally numb from chasing terrorists around the world that a gunshot would is nothing more than a stubbed toe to you. But in civilized society, we have rules, It's what separates from animals. And rule number one is when you get someone shot, you fucking apologize!"

"I'm sorry," says McGarrett without a hint of remorse.

Danny bites his tongue. "Sure."

And McGarrett finally manages to keep his god damn mouth shut.

\--o--

McGarrett ends up diverting from the precinct to meet up with one Chin Ho Kelly, who apparently has more information for them. Danny pretends not to recognize the only other member of HPD just as ostracized as he is.

Kelly turns out to know a guy who can lead them where they need to go, but he refuses to actually, y'know, tell them. Claims something about his ruined reputation, then makes to leave.

McGarrett decides to show off more of his social skills and asks, "Did you take the money?"

"Excuse me?" His tone is deadly calm.

"Did you," McGarrett asks again as he turns. "take the money?"

"No." Kelly spits the word from his mouth.

"Then come with us, and we don't need to talk about this again."

And that's how they get their name: Sang Min. In between, there's a shaved ice truck, a man named Kamekona, and two ridiculous shirts with said man's face on them, but Danny refuses to even acknowledge that it happened. (Except for the sweet little mū girl he gave Grace's bunny. Her tiny fangs had reminded him of when Gracie's little nubs when her teeth first started coming and he couldn't not treat her.)

According to Kelly, Sang Min is a qilin human trafficker, someone who could definitely get Hesse onto the island. They've got no leverage, though, so he has no reason to talk.

"Then we make leverage," McGarrett says, which is the first intelligent thing Danny's heard him say since he's had the displeasure of working with him. "Bait-and-switch."

"Wire up an undercover and get some dirt," Danny finishes, but Kelly tuts at him.

"Won't work. Everyone knows the cops on the island. We need a fresh face," he says, but, surprisingly, doesn't chide. It's the first time Danny's been treated with an ounce of respect from anyone he's worked with professionally, and he can't help a little smile.

McGarrett doesn't seem to catch it, but Chin smiles back knowingly. "Don't worry, though," he continues. "I've got the perfect guy."

Danny thinks he's going to like him.

\--o--

Chin brings them to the beach for his cousin, Kono Kalakaua. She's surfing, but Danny can still see the gills running down her neck and the web between her fingers. Probably mū, considering Chin is one.

She's a week from graduating from the police academy, which means that she's definitely unknown, but it also means she has no real experience. Danny's mildly concerned until she crashes into a guy, then decks him for stealing her wave. Then, he's just impressed.

She brightens as soon as she sees Chin and gives a cheerful, "Cousin!" She flashes pearly white fangs in the process, too -- definitely a mū.

They've barely said their introductions before McGarrett launches into his offer of undercover work. Kalakaua gives an almost immediate yes, so giddy Danny can't help but think of Gracie. She practically drags Chin to the parking lot, and then they're off, Chin to set up the meet and Kalakaua to shower and change.

In the meantime, McGarrett insists on going back to his place to check out more evidence while they wait for Chin. Danny only drops him off before speeding back to his apartment, though -- he's entirely too fed up with him to stay and listen to any sort of bullshit he might spout. If he needs something, he'll call.

He gets home exhausted, physically and mentally. The coffee wore off several hours earlier and dealing with McGarrett sapped away most of any facade he might've put up. He knows he's not going to be able to sleep it off, of course -- as if the universe would stop shitting on him long enough to let him get some break from this nonsense any time soon.

He settles for a bottle of water, then cleaning his pigsty of an apartment (one of the few things he'll concede to McGarrett on) before finally shifting to settle onto his bed. It's as easy as breathing; the fur, thick and golden (and clipped because this is fucking Hawaii and he doesn't have a death wish), grows in within seconds as his anatomy shifts even faster. He doesn't even really register it as he hops up onto his bed. It creaks under his new weight; he's much, much larger as a wolf, and much heavier in turn.

  
Even though he knows he won't be able to sleep, he curls up, closes his eyes, and simply relaxes. It's not quite sleeping, but it's close enough to a mindless haze that he only snaps out of it when his ringtone reaches his ears.

Begrudgingly, he shifts back and scrambles to answer. It turns out only to be McGarrett letting him know the time and place of Kalakaua's meet tomorrow morning with Sang Min, and where he should be to run surveillance. He writes it down, then hangs up before McGarrett gets a chance to say something stupid.

He also takes the chance to check the time: 7:52 pm.

He sighs. It's going to be a long night.

\--o--

He manages a whole three hours of sleep that night, which makes him hopeful this bout of insomnia might be coming to a close. Of course, he still showers in ice water and downs two cups of coffee before he leaves(because his massive sleep debt isn't going to be cured on three hours of sleep).

Despite being more awake, he's still the last to arrive at the truck where they'll be watching the meet. McGarrett is blessedly silent while they set up, and Chin even gives him a friendly "Howzit?"

Kalakaua goes in, and it starts fairly well. Sang Min seems to buy it.

And then he finds sand in her hair.

"Alright, pull the plug," Danny says immediately. He's seen too many undercover cases go horribly wrong to let that happen to such a young recruit, not even out of the academy yet.

"Relax, she can handle herself." Chin answers.

"If he smells trap, he's gonna kill her, okay?" Danny repeats, more urgent now.

Chin turns to face him and gives a reassuring look. "Trust me."

Danny hesitates but then gives a reluctant nod. He can't stand watching her strip for Sang Min, but he knows it's necessary. Though the qilin fails to find a wire, he does snap a photo of Kalakaua to check even further.

Danny's tracing the phone number before McGarrett even gives the order. "Call traces back to my precinct," he hisses. "We've got a mole. We gotta pull her."

He and Chin are out before McGarrett can give any kind of orders, heading for Danny's car for tac vests. By the time they get back, however, the truck is inside the warehouse via a brand new hole in the wall. Because of course it is.

Pushing his shock aside, he moves to handcuff all the perps knocked down by the truck. In the meantime, he hears McGarrett going to cuff Sang Min, and then a shout of "Gun!"

  
Immediately, he ducks for cover, then turns to see the gunman who'd shot at McGarrett dropping to the ground. Behind him, Sang Min is pulling something out of his desk, and he only has just enough time to shout, "Get down!"

Thankfully, Sang Min is mainly interested in getting away, and only uses repressive fire. No one gets hit, and McGarrett races off to give chase. Danny stays, though, and handcuffs each and every one of the perps with the help of Chin and Kalakaua. Once that's done, he calls HPD, then rushes after McGarrett.

He gets out in time to find Sang Min's car crashed into a shipping container and McGarrett holding him at gunpoint. He's not so much concerned with that, though, as he is with the muffled noise and scent of people coming from the container to his right.

He opens the door to a group of smuggled people, some human, some shifted. There are a few qilins, a dragon or two, and various others he's not quite certain of the name of. He can't understand any of them -- they're too distressed to be communicating anything more than _'confusedterrifiedstressed' --_ but he offers a kind smile.

The police cars and ambulances arrive not long afterward, thankfully, as well as an actual transport bus. Chin and McGarrett quietly take Sang Min off somewhere, but Danny chooses not to follow, due in no small part to plausible deniability. Instead, he stays, not shifting, but giving reassurances to the fully shifted ones in a way only they'll understand. He manages to coax enough of them out into human form that they take care of the rest, which happens just in time for McGarrett to return.

"I've got a ship," he says, and that's all the explanation Danny gets before the SEAL drags him into a cruiser and takes off for the port.

The moment he's off the main roads, he drives like a maniac. He takes such hard turns, Danny's fairly sure this is going to be the day he dies. As if to make things worse, Rachel decides to call to yell at him for not picking up Grace. He manages to end the shouting match fast enough to watch in terror as McGarrett drives up onto the ship.

Immediately, they're shot at, and McGarrett runs off to chance after Hesse. Danny curses him, but moves on to take care of the guards. He downs one as he moves to cover, then takes his gun to fire at the others. Just barely, he manages to not get shot as he downs one, then the other.

The one up top, the first, takes the bullet to the chest and lands in the water with a splash. Danny doesn't bother going after him. Instead, he moves to handcuff the one writhing on the ground in pain.

He hears McGarrett approach from above and glances up. The SEAL is preening, clearly proud of himself. "You get him?"

McGarrett gives a triumphant nod. His posture is open like he expects Danny to be celebrating with him.

God, he's like a child with how socially unaware he is.

"Then get the coast guard to comb the water for his body," Danny replies. He's probably a little more curt than he needs to be, but he also really need McGarrett to get it through his thick skull that they're not friends before he does something else stupid. "I'll take this one to the precinct.

McGarrett hesitates, visibly deflating, before he simply nods and leaves. Danny doesn't feel bad. Whatever gets the point across.

\--o--

After leaving the man with HPD, McGarrett drags him to Iolani Palace, where there are various boxes and papers and new-looking furniture.

Offices. He's setting up offices. And he expects Danny to begin working in one of those offices as an employee.

Danny barely holds back a sigh. Seems the adrenaline made him forget how batshit insane and obtuse McGarrett is.

"Hey, can I have my keys?" he asks, hand out.

McGarrett tosses them to him, and he catches them easily. "You trying to stake out parking already?"

"Absolutely not. I'm leaving," he says, turning away. He might hate the atmosphere at HPD, but at least he isn't being forced to work there by an uppity military asshat.

"Where are you going?" McGarrett sounds genuinely confused, as if it's surprising Danny wants nothing to do with him.

"HPD. You got Hesse; you don't need me anymore. Therefore, I'm going back to my job."

"This is your job, You've been transferred."

"The hell do you mean I've been transferred?!" At this point, Chin and Kalakaua take interest, probably because his voice is raised, but Danny doesn't really care; all of his effort is going towards keeping his teeth dull and the fur beneath his skin.

"I mean I had you officially transferred to the task force," McGarrett answers, then glances to the two other pairs of eyes. "Considering your chief didn't try very hard to keep you and you've been working here all day, I figure it was--"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence before Danny clocks him for a second time. Honestly, the werewolf doesn't even register that he's doing it, but damn is the sound refreshing. It's nothing compared to the idea of using the claws that are digging into his palms, but it's cathartic enough to push down the animal rising in him.

"Fuck you," Danny hisses before storming out. Either McGarrett is too stunned to stop him, or he finally got it through his thick skull to leave him the hell alone, because Danny's able to get all the way to his car and drive off without interruption.

On some level, he knows he's being irrational and probably just lost his job, but he can't bring himself to care at the moment. He's enraged and struggling to maintain his humanity; he can't bring himself to worry about much beyond that.

He doesn't drive home, since McGarrett most definitely would try and seek him out. Hopefully, he won't realize that there's GPS on his car until after he's already at his apartment, which should give him time enough. Instead, he takes a long, winding way to a convenience store. He spends the time calming himself down, taking deep breaths until his teeth feel normal in his jaws again.

With one last deep breath, he calls Rachel.

"I'm sorry," he says before she can get a word out. "I shouldn't have snapped at you earlier. I just..." he runs his fingers through his hair with a sigh, "...you know how it gets around the full moon. It's not an excuse for snapping, but with what was happening at the time --"

"I'm not taking Grace from you tonight."

Danny relaxes immensely. "Thank you."

"She needs the interaction, and neither Stan nor I can handle her during a full moon like you can."

There's the backhanded compliment he was expecting. Danny ignores it, simply happy that he'd get to spend an entire night with his pup. "Can I pick her up early? Please?"

"You didn't seem fast to pick her up earlier--"

"Please, Rachel. When that happened -- it was out of my hands. I just... I need this. Please."

Either something in his voice sounds pathetic enough to move her, or she's just tired of arguing, because she just says, "Okay."

Danny sighs, leaning back in his seat. "Thank you."

"Go ahead and come by in an hour," she says, and then the phone call is over.

\--o--

He spends the hour driving home (McGarrett isn't there, thank god), changing into some more comfortable clothes, then driving back to Rachel's. Grace all but barrels into his car, a bundle of energy and giggles that lifts his mood drastically. She has her go-bag in hand, complete with toys and a spare change of clothes, though, per usual, only the clothes will get any use. He cranks the music, Bon Jovi this time, as they drive to the island's shifter nature preserve.

It's nearly nightfall by the time he gets through the long, scenic route, and Grace is getting antsy. She can't get out of the car fast enough, and her energy warms his heart.

"Someone's excited," he chuckles as he follows her to the gates.

"Evening, Mr. Williams." The guard, one Harold Remmings, nods at him. He gives Grace a soft smile. "And hello to you as well, Miss Williams."

Grace giggles at his thick, posh accent, more than entertained with the foreign pronunciation. "Hi, Mr. Remmings!"

"You know you can call me Danny. I think we're on good enough terms for that." Danny gives him an easy grin in turn, digging out his ID, then offering his arm.

"And you know I much prefer to be formal." Remmings takes a marker from his belt and runs it over his skin. The magic in the ink tingles as it fades into the flesh, working down to make sure he's actually Danny Williams, Jersey-born werewolf detective. "Even to Miss Williams over there."

Grace squeals with delight again as Remmings bends down to mark her arm as well. "Thank you, Mr. Remmings!" she says as it fades.

"Have a good night, Mr. Williams." Remmings opens the gate with a smile.

Grace races inside, bubbling with energy. Danny smiles as he follows, knowing full well she'll be out like a light in only a couple hours.

He waits until they're out of eyeshot of the gates before he shifts. It flows like water over his skin, shifting easily and seamlessly from human to massive wolf. It feels right, being in this form. Natural, like he was born for it. Technically, he was, but it's always strongest on full moons, especially on full moons with no pack to calm him.

Grace pauses in her giggling once he catches her eye, and her face falls. She rushes forward before he can, exclaiming, "Danno, what happened?"

Danny's confused for a long moment, until he realizes she's staring at the mostly-healed bullet wound in his shoulder. The wound itself is closed, but the skin hasn't regained enough function to regrow hair yet.

He nuzzles Grace's face with his snout. _'It's nothing, monkey. Just a cut that needs a little more time to regrow hair.'_

She relaxes at this and gives him a good a hug as she can manage with their size difference. "I'm glad you're okay."

 _'I'm glad I'm okay, too,'_ replies Danny. _'Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to do this anymore.'_

With that, he gently knocks Grace over and mercilessly tickles her with his nose. She squeals, struggling to roll back over, but he doesn't let her until he's had his fill. By then, she's breathless but delighted all the same. She wriggles upright with a clear intent to continue playing, but pauses suddenly.

Immediately, Danny's on alert, though he knows that it's only the transformation setting in. He moves closer to Grace as she itches at her skin, offering a warm, comforting, presence. He can't do much more than that, as much as he'd like to. Until she learned to control it, it would always be somewhat uncomfortable. At least she'd gotten to where it only took a few minutes.

For this specific time, it only took about three before there was a brown-gold wolf pup curled into his side instead of a little girl. Carefully, he shifts, lowering himself onto his belly and bringing Grace close to his chest. From here, it's only a few minutes more before she'll stop feeling disoriented.

Two minutes later, she wriggles out of his forelegs, bubbly and full of energy. _'Danno! Danno! Let's play!'_ she exclaims, tail wagging back and forth like a motor.

Danny chuffs, more than a little amused as he rises. Grace dashes off when he does, a bolt of fur and energy. He lets her get a short ways ahead before he goes after her at a decent trot. He wants to sprint quite badly, to run until his legs give out, but he figures Grace wouldn't appreciate being left behind.

At the same time, he can't exactly not move a little faster than is fair given how little Grace is. He's been itching to shift all day and his chest aches with a want to use the new muscles. It's been entirely too long since he's been able to just run, and run with a pack. All he has at the moment is Grace, which, while he loves her to death, is nothing like having her and his siblings and his parents.

He slows some, just to let her get a little further ahead. He'll sprint for a bit, just to burn off some of that energy, then pounce to turn it into a bout of wrestling. His tail flicks back and forth, and he's certain if his face would allow it, he'd be smiling.

He gives it a few more moments before he starts running, and he catches her not long after. As he pounces on her, ever mindful not to hurt her, he's fairly sure she stopped trying at some point, but he doesn't care. He buries his nose into her belly, tickling her, and she lets out delighted little chirps. Just a little, he loosens his hold so she feels like she's accomplishing something when she wriggles away.

She doesn't run this time, just turns to face him and drops onto her forepaws with her tail going a mile a minute (honestly, it's not that much faster than his own). Danny chuffs, then suddenly surges forward to pin her again. Narrowly, she avoids it and takes his miss as a chance to scramble onto his back.

As well as he can, Danny turns back to face her, which earns him a gentle swat on the face. He recoils, then shakes. It's just enough to throw her off balance and send her sliding to the ground. He shifts, ready to pounce again, but this time she takes her chance to sprint off into the woods again.

Once again, Danny rises, but he waits this time, waits until Gracie's scent is fading just a hair, and then he takes off. The wind feels amazing in his fur, and the ground feels amazing beneath his paws, and everything is just good. For the moment, there's no Rachel, no McGarrett, no stress. It's just him, and the trees, and his pup. And life is good.

And it goes like that for a time, chasing and wrestling and chasing again. He never remembers how long exactly -- he stops paying attention fairly quickly -- but judging by the moon, it's nearing midnight when Grace starts to tire.

She's sluggish while they're wrestling, and eventually gives it up in favor of snuggling into his side.

 _'I love you, Danno,'_ she yawns, and god she's absolutely adorable. So small and cute, and now she's sleepy and Danny's pretty sure his heart is going to burst.

 _'_ _Danno loves you, too, Monkey,'_ he replies. He gives her head an affectionate lick and touches her nose with his.

He lets her be after that, and she falls asleep within minutes. Danny doesn't, of course, partly because he's a responsible adult and partly because insomnia and party because the forest is nice this time of night.

The moon streams in from the canopy, little streaks of light tumbling through the trees to the forest floor where it can. There's the soft skitter of nocturnal animals about, or sleepy diurnal ones trying to find a safer place with two wolves tumbling around. A weak breeze rustles the leaves overhead. It's calm, most importantly. Calm and quiet. Relaxing. It smells of grass and dirt and... salt...?

Danny tries not to stiffen as the familiar scent grows nearer, but it's a close thing. After clocking the man twice in the face, he figured he'd gotten the message across that he really didn't want to be messed with, Really, with how fucking obtuse McGarrett is, he should've known better.

McGarrett comes up from the side Gracie is not, and Danny levels him with the stiffest glare he can manage. If it were just him, he'd happily be growling, but Grace is asleep against his side and doesn't need to wake up afraid.

"Relax, Danny," McGarrett says, throwing his hands up. "I'm not here to fight you. I came to apologize."

Or he could say that and completely destroy all of Danny's expectations.

The werewolf lets up on his glare and relaxes, though that's definitely only because Grace is squirming weakly at his side and tense muscles don't make for the best bed.

McGarrett takes a deep breath. "I was completely wrong to keep pushing you like that. I came to you for Doran, and then I saw in your file that you were a werewolf and I thought that'd be really useful to the task force. There were... a lot of things that I got wrong about it. Chin was kind enough to... correct me after you left."

Danny snorts internally. More like chewed him out and probably threatened to quit. He owes Chin something now, for sure.

"I still think you'd be a great addition to this team, for what it's worth. You've got the experience to keep the people we catch behind bars," continues McGarrett. "That, and you've got a damn mean right hook."

Danny chirps a soft laugh, and something resembling a smile tugs at his lips. An apology, and a joke. Basically a verbally offered hand.

He nods, completely relaxing, and Steve does, too. He steps closer, close enough that he can see the bundle of fur snuggled into his side, hesitates, then steps back again. "Be in at no later than 9 tomorrow," he says, but there's a playful lilt to his tone he hasn't had all day. "You need the sleep as much as she does, but we still have work to do."

Danny chirps another laugh, and then Steve leaves.

The werewolf stays for a while longer, turning over the idea of working with such a bull-headed man for a boss. Well, not quite bull-headed. Humble enough to apologize, even if he had to get yelled at first. Something is better than nothing.

He sighs, and shifts back. Best to get home now. After all, he does have work tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

The first few days in the new task force are relatively uneventful. Mostly, it's paperwork, making calls to the right people, and setting up the office. It's something Danny is rather grateful for; his sleep has been getting steadily better, but he still doesn't have the mental awareness to deal with any of Steve's bullshit.

It's about a week after his disastrous first day that he gets called to a crime scene: ex-NSA agent, Roland Lowry, was abducted after having his car t-boned and his bodyguards killed. _A matter of national security_ , Steve tells him over the phone. _The Governor wants us to find him._

Danny arrives at the scene about the same time Steve does, and he nods a greeting.

"You still wearing ties?" Steve greets him.

"Don't, Steven," Danny says, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. He doesn't have the energy to explain the whole tie-collar-tracker mess, not right now.

Steve stares at him, just for a moment, and then decides to not have this argument again (thank _god_ ). Instead, he pulls on his own pair of gloves and sets to analyzing the scene.

Danny makes his way behind the van and has a lab tech run the license plate. It turns out it was reported stolen a few days ago, by one Noel Heinmann. He also runs the IDs of the two deceased men, who turn out to be Kaden Pakele and Felipe Caruso. Both hired muscle, both with relatively clean records -- the worst offense was Caruso for a case of trespassing from over two decades ago, which was probably some stupid teenage dare gone wrong.

He comes up to the passenger side door to Steve examining bullet shells. "SS-190 armor-piercing rounds. These guys were definitely well-backed," he says, turning the casing over and over in his fingers then looking up. "What do you got?"

"It's not a local job," Danny answers, then reports his findings.

"Interesting," Steve murmurs, wandering over to the bullet hole in the flipped SUV. "This is bulletproof glass. Wherever they were going, they were prepared for a situation like this."

"Clearly not prepared enough," Danny snorts.

Kono comes up, holding what's probably Lowry's phone. "Hey, guys, last call was at 6:15 am. Same time he was abducted."

"Who's he call?" Danny asks.

"His son, Evan."

Danny doesn't reply for a moment, too busy suppressing fatherly instincts. Even when it's not his kid, he can't help that patneral concern. "Have his guardians bring him to the place for questioning," he says. "Not HPD -- that'll scare him, make him think that his dad might be gone for good. He doesn't need that right now."

"I'll get right on it." Kono nods and heads off.

"That's a good idea," Steve pipes up. "Having someone familiar bring him. Keep him relaxed."

"The kid had to listen to his dad be kidnapped. He needs someone stable to help him handle this," answers Danny, though he's a bit more caught up in how Steve seems to be operating with normal human emotions now. Maybe Chin knocked more than just sense into him. "I'll meet you in the car after I finish tying up a few loose ends. It'd probably be better to beat Evan to the place to assess everything."

Steve nods and leaves, and Danny thinks things might just be looking up.

\--o--

They end up arriving around the same time Evan does -- apparently the kid wanted to get it done immediately so they could find his dad faster. If he hadn't completely melted before (which he had, because it was a child in distress and he is _weak_ ), he has now.

Evan walks in and, _god_ , he's too young to be dealing with this. He's no older than 11 or 12, his eyes are puffy and red, and he reeks of grief, stress, and worry. He's accompanied by a blond woman, Natalie Reed. She's Lowery's girlfriend, though Danny doubts it'll last. 

It's not obvious, but he can easily read how little she wants to be around Evan in her actions. Despite the waterworks, she doesn't smell of care and worry. She carries a chill with her, enough to put him on edge. He isn't sure what she is, either, which doesn't help his nerves. Danny doesn't narrow his eyes, but it's a close thing. Instead, he files the information for later. Reed is _far_ too suspicious to simply ignore.

"Ms. Reed." Steve nods.

Reed only sniffles at them, then turns to Evan. "These are the nice policemen you're going to talk to, okay? They'll help you find Dad."

"Hey, bud," Danny says, pointedly ignoring Reed. "You feelin' okay?"

"...No," Evan murmurs.

"Do you wanna grab something from the vending machine before we start?" Steve offers, and Danny's swiftly reminded of how recently he lost his own father. Poor guy is probably still reeling from it all, and this probably doesn't help.

Evan nods, and Steve ends up buying him a bag of sunflower seeds (which he only nibbles at) before they settle at a table.

"Evan, do you know where your dad was going this morning?" Steve's voice is kind, gentle. Danny lets him take point here, sensing there's something he needs from this.

He's sweet with the kid, doesn't rush him through the questions. Only a few times does Danny have to pull Evan's fingers from picking at his arms. Something about Steve's presence is calming. Danny's not quite sure what it is, but he most certainly respects it. (Once again, Danny's reminded that he's barely had time to mourn his own father, and he resolves to shove the SEAL into some form of therapy.)

They find out that Evan knows exactly nothing about what his dad is up to. Towards the end, he starts to break down, but Steve has the kid in his arms before Danny can move. 

It's a curious scene, watching Steve show any sort of emotion. He presses the kid into his chest, murmuring softly, "It's okay. We'll find him."

There's a curious cadence to his words, near lyrical, and -- oh. _Oh._

Steve's a siren.

Danny's only mildly surprised. As strongly as he stank of the ocean, he had to be some sort of sea creature. He's not sporting gills, but it doesn't surprise Danny that he hides them. Illusion magic's easy enough, and it keeps an ace up his sleeve. He's only surprised he didn't use it earlier, when he was trying to force him into being his partner. He supposes even neanderthals have standards.

Reed has dialed up the concerned mother look, apparently spurred by Evan's distress. She pulls him into her arms, floods his ears with meaningless appeasements, and Evan melts.

Steve nods at Kono, and she follows them into a back room.

"She smells wrong," Danny says immediately.

Steve shoots him a look, but swallows whatever retort down. "Wrong how?"

"She doesn't smell like a parent," Danny says, then sighs when he gets blank looks. He's too used to Jersey, where they understood things like that. He points at Steve. "You held Evan and you smelled like... protectiveness. Care. Concern. Like a parent." He juts a thumb in Reed's direction. "She holds him, and she smells like nothing. There's no worry, no concern. Not for Evan and not for Lowery. It's wrong."

"She might be using scent blockers," Steve suggests. "Or she might be a golem. There are a lot of alternatives. And even if there weren't, we can't exactly hold her because she 'smelled wrong.'"

Danny frowns, but stays silent. He's high strung off Evan's stress, and his parental instincts are riled. He might be overstepping here.

"Either way, we still have a missing person. Which means there might be a ransom," Kono says.

"That's why I want you to stay with them," Steve nods. "In case it's called in."

"Will do, boss."

"Give us a couple hours, we'll run down some leads, then we will relieve you of your charges. I promise you won't miss your graduation," Danny offers a kind smile, which Kono returns.

Chin chooses that moment to walk in, touting his findings. "Talked to the owner of the security company Lowry hired," he says. "Turns out the two bodyguards were for an appointment he had this morning. They were heading to Hickam Airforce base."

"You know anyone there?" Danny asks, but Steve's already moving. He shakes his head as he follows. "Stupid question, of course you do."

\--o--

The ride over is relatively uneventful. Steve drives because Danny driving his own car makes too much sense. The silence is rather nice for a chance, until Steve asks, "So what does protectiveness smell like?"

"It smells like..." Danny pauses, vaguely waving his hand like the words will appear from thin air. "Warmth. Strength. Concern."

"Abstract concepts aren't smells, Danny." Steve gives him a sideways glance.

"I'm well aware those are not conventional scents, Steven," Danny retorts. "But you'd have to be a full shifter to understand it, so that's about as close as it gets."

"How do you even learn what 'warmth' smells like? Last I checked, there's no 'warmth' pheromone."

"You are asking the wrong guy," Danny snorts. "I'm not a biologist. I am what I am, and I know what I know. You smelled protective when you hugged Evan, and now you smell curious with a heaping helping of saltwater. And before you ask, yes, I _am_ aware you showered this morning. You are a sea creature, Steven. You always stink of the ocean."

"...Sea creature, eh?" Steve tenses, ever so slightly. (Danny gets the feeling he's preparing for something rather prejudiced to follow, and he feels a ping of sympathy.)

"Yes," he continues, "a sea creature. Because sirens are aquatic people, hence _sea_ , and you are an animal, hence _creature_."

The way Steve melts into an easy smile makes Danny relax, too. "Says the literal wolf. And how'd you realize?"

"Firstly, werewolf. A real wolf would’ve bitten your head off long before now, not that I haven’t been _sorely_ tempted. Secondly, you Sang to Evan. Kinda hard to miss that."

Steve gives him another sideways glance.

Danny responds with a shrug. "You calmed the kid down. I don't see why that's much of an issue."

"I figured you might be wondering why I didn't charm _you_ into being my partner."

"The thought occurred to me, yes. I figured it was you being, y'know, a decent person."

Steve grins. "Thought I was a neanderthal? Or was it animal? You weren't clear about that."

"You'll be sporting a decent _shiner_ if you don't shut the hell up." Danny glares, but there's no real malice behind it. 

Surprisingly, Steve goes silent. Granted, the smirk on his lips speaks volumes, but it's a start.

\--o--

They meet Steve's contact, Chief of Staff Harvey Nathanson, only briefly. He gives what he knows quickly and concisely: Lowry was paranoid, constantly sending memos to the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the middle of the night about how vulnerable they were. He refused to discuss things over the phone, and even moved to Hawaii to further his work. Nathanson had a meeting with him that morning, one where Lowry would bring proof of his claims, but he was kidnapped before he could arrive.

A call from Chin cuts short anything more, and then they're rushing out to hunt down an injured gunman from the crash site. Steve drives again, barreling past cars and breaking a multitude of traffic laws as he makes his way to the Kahiko Hotel. Danny doesn't have it in him to even care right now (but when he does, _oh_ when he does, he's ripping Steve a new one).

Danny has his tac vest on within minutes of getting out of the car, drawing his gun and following Steve and Chin into the throng of patrons. Vaguely, he's aware of the distress that rolls through the crowd, but he doesn't _really_ register it until they're stuck in an elevator with a trembling family of three.

Being the pinnacle of human interaction that he is, Steve not only presses the floor button with his weapon, but even _cocks_ it, too. When he notices that mother, father, and son are staring at them, fearful, and manages to stutter out, "Uh, we're cops. Don't worry."

Danny's pretty sure his internal screaming _has_ to be audible at this point.

They exit onto the 36th floor and fan out. The scent of blood draws Danny into the left hall, and he calls the others over as he advances. The trail leads them up to the roof, where they discover the gunman laying on the ground, unconscious in a pool of blood. Not dead yet, though.

Danny pulls out his phone to call an ambulance, but barely manages to dial a single number before Steve's moving him.

"Hey, the hell are you doing?!" shouts Danny. "Don't move him!"

Steve glares as he continues hauling the gunman to a wall and sitting him upright. "We need him awake for questioning."

"We need him _alive_ for questioning!" Danny snaps back.

"Immunity and means," Steve replies, as if that's an excuse for violating basic human rights.

Helplessly, Danny looks at Chin, because he refuses to believe he's the only one about to have an aneurysm here. Chin just stares back with a shrug, clearly not willing to get in the way of Hurricane McGarrett (not that Danny can blame him, but he sure would like the support in making sure they act within the bounds of the law).

Steve returns with a hose from god knows where and promptly drenches the suspect as if this is just normal police procedure. The guy startles awake, then immediately winces and clutches his arm. Danny tries not to have a stroke from the sheer cognitive dissonance of it all.

"Who are you?" Steve demands. "Where's Roland Lowry? What do you want with him?"

The gunman remains silent. 

In an effort to not have to explain why their suspect bled out surrounded by three officers of the law, Danny steps forward and crouches in front of the guy. "Look, I've been shot, too. It's not fun. That wound's been open, what, an hour, two hours?" he pauses, just for a moment. "I can practically smell the infection setting in already. That'll get right into your bloodstream, cause sepsis, cause organ failure. Are your buddies really worth that? They left you behind--"

Steve nudges (see: basically shoves) him aside, apparently dissatisfied with his lack of results in the past eight seconds. He takes the suspect's thumb and shoves it against his own wound. The suspect, naturally, cries out in pain, while Danny just stares on in shock.

"The hell are you doing?!" he shouts, but it falls on deaf ears.

"Someone got paper?" Steve asks.

Chin walks up with his notebook, looking vaguely unsure. Steve completely misses it as he stamps the gunman's print onto it and tells Chin to run it.

Before Danny can get a word in, Steve hauls the gunman up to his feet and starts moving him to the door. And then past the door.

"Hey, hey! What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?!" Danny rushes up as Steve sits him on the edge, and then _dangles him over the ledge_.

Danny damn near throttles him right then and there. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?!" he screams. "This is not fucking _Guantanamo!_ You can't hang a guy of the fucking _roof!"_

Steve is content to ignore him, instead threatening the gunman verbally (as if being dangled off the _roof_ isn't enough).

Danny snaps. He half-shoves Steve aside (and takes the smallest bit of satisfaction when the SEAL startles) and grabs the suspect's clothing, hauling him back onto solid ground. He pulls him close, letting him practically collapse against him. 

Steve stares at him, slack-jawed. "The fuck are you doing?!"

"I'm doing my god damn job," Danny growls lowly, baring fangs and edging in front of the wounded man. "You are _so_ far out of line, you might as well be a criminal yourself. This--"

"Got a match from Interpol," Chin cuts him off. "Also called for EMTs. ETA is 6 minutes."

Danny huffs an acknowledgment and drops down to tend to the gunman's wounds. He rips off a piece of the man's jacket with his claws and ties it neatly over the bleeding hole before promptly cuffing the guy.

"Guy's name is Sergei Ivanovitch," Chin continues. "Serbian national with a rap sheet a mile long. Part of a gang who pulled bank jobs, jewelry heists -- smash and grab type stuff."

"They're thieves," Steve muses.

Chin nods. "Question is, why graduate to kidnapping?"

"Maybe they knew Lowry had something valuable, and they're after that," Danny chimes in, hauling Ivanovitch to his feet.

"Take this guy to the office, throw him in a hole. Then run deep background -- when he got to the island, where he's been, all known associates, the whole shot."

"Take him for _medical_ care first." Danny corrects. "Let the EMT look at him before you leave. Go with them if you have to."

Steve stares at him, scandalized that his power might be subverted, but Chin nods and leaves with Ivanovitch before he can get a word out. He opens his mouth, probably to say as such, but Danny cuts him off.

"If the next words out of your mouth don't have anything to do with the investigation, I'm going to _strangle_ you," he snarls.

He looks sufficiently angry, since Steve simply answers, "We're going to Lowry's house. I wanna know what they were after."

Still tense and fuming, Danny nods shortly and makes his way down to the Camero.

\--o--

They're about 7 minutes into the ride to Lowry's house, and, like most other car rides with McGarrett, they're sitting in angry silence. And, like with every other angry-silence car ride with McGarrett, he decides to open his goddamn mouth.

"Let it go," he says, as if Danny's upset over him taking the last donut and not him breaking every single fucking measure of police procedure possible. "Just let it go."

"Do not," Danny replies, because there's a non-zero chance he's going to rip Steve's throat out with his teeth if he doesn't stop talking.

"So we're gonna do that whole thing again? Why do we have to go--"

God. _Dammit_.

"Shut up, Steven." Danny cuts him off. "I'm going to speak now, and you're going to shut the hell up and listen. Sergei Ivanovich is a suspect. That means we treat him as a) a source of information, and b) a human _fucking_ being! When we are done, we book him, okay? We do not torture and kill our suspects in polite society!

I know the governor gave you a free pass, yeah? But immunity and means does not entitle you to hang a guy of a damn _roof!_ We are not the mob! We are officers of the _law_ , and we have _standards_ when we question people! It is what separates us from the people we are putting behind bars."

"Look, Danny," Steve interjects. "That guy was only gonna talk out of fear of death. You saw those tattoos on his hand? The blue star? That’s a New Belgrade Serbian mafia tattoo. These guys are not smash and grab types -- they kill kids, they slaughter families. That boy's gonna lose his father."

Danny takes a very deep breath and tries to think of a few days ago, when Steve apologized for being such an asshole. He thinks of Grace, who would be devastated to grow up with a father in prison for murder. He thinks of his morals, which would be thoroughly violated by innocent (as much as he hates to admit it) blood on his hands. And then he speaks.

"I do know that, Steven," he responds (and, wow, the satisfaction of the SEAL's shock hasn't abated in the slightest). "I have seen entire families ripped apart -- literally ripped apart by wolves or bears or whatever other full shifter with sharp teeth -- and left to be found with my own two eyes. I have personally had to explain to parents that they can't have a body for their little boy's funeral because he's in too many pieces to do so. I know _exactly_ what kind of person he is. That does not change _any_ of what I said."

He takes another deep breath and turns to face the other man as well as he can in his seat. "I'm going to say this exactly once, and then that's the end of this, okay? Because it cannot get simpler than this: if you are going to be an officer of the law, you _have_ to follow the law. I don't care what G.I. Joe shenanigans you got up to before now; you were sworn in to uphold the law, and that is what I expect you to do. If you're not going to do that, then I'm going to apply for a transfer, and that will be the end of the matter. I refuse to work with someone who does not work within the bounds of the law."

He turns back to face the windshield.

Steven, for the second time today, is speechless.

\--o--

By the time they pull up to Lowry's place, the tension has died down a bit. More specifically, Danny has had time to do those calming exercises he vaguely remembers the marriage counselor telling him about. They might not have saved him and Rachel, but at least they'll keep him from throttling his partner.

The place is locked down: security cameras, double deadbolts, two separate entrances. Danny's surprised there aren't any automatic turrets. The inside of the house actually looks like a home, complete with family photos and furniture.

"Alright, looking for files, notebooks, his computer," Steve says, pushing past him.

"Oh, thank you, Captain Obvious." Danny is seriously suspecting Steve thinks he's incompetent, which is _incredibly_ ironic coming from someone with less than a week of fieldwork. "I'll take the back."

Outside is relatively uninteresting. A ladder leads to the second floor, another hallmark of Lowry's paranoia. He can't smell anything suspicious, nor can he see anything hidden in the grass. Absently, he glances over to motion in the corner of his eye, though he knows it's just Steve.

His eyes land on the bookshelf, and he pauses. There's something off about it, the way it comes so far forward... Danny squints. "This wall seem weird to you? Not an architect, but I feel like there's supposed to be another room here."

Sure enough, when Steve moves forward and knocks on the wall, it's hollow. Not a moment later, the SEAL wrenches the false wall open, revealing a small room packed to the brim with computers.

Anything technological is entirely above Danny's paygrade, but Steve seems at ease with it, so he lets him take charge. The siren flicks the system on, then promptly _also_ realizes it's entirely out of his paygrade.

"We need to find someone who can make sense of this," he says, stepping back from the mess of wires, monitors, and numbers. 

Danny blinks. Apparently, all is not as it seems. "You're Naval Intelligence. None of this looks familiar to you?"

Steve shakes his head. "I've never seen anything like this. I've seen super-grade level cryptography, but this is above that. It's all roundabouts and short cuts -- like some off the grid, hacker thing."

"Hacker?" Danny cocks a brow. "I think I know a guy."

Steve looks at him like he's grown a second head, and Danny _swears_ he must think all Danny's good for his paperwork. "You know a guy?"

" _Yeah_ , I know a guy. Believe it or not, _Steven_ , you make contacts as a police officer."

"Alright then."

"...You got any cash on you?"

\--o--

Danny ends up buying the blood candies, along with a small pack of graham crackers. Steve (see: cheap bitch) "forgot" his wallet in his other shorts. At least he doesn't question why they need an entire bag of sugar to meet his contact.

"How do you know this guy?" Steve asks. He's driving again, because he apparently knows a faster route to the place he's never been.

"His name is Adam Charles. Goes by Toast. Partly vampire, partly something that practically breathes electricity," Danny answers, cracking open some graham crackers. "He was part of the first case I worked here. Got busted hacking into ATMs all around the island. He's a good kid, just got caught up with the wrong crowd."

"What, and your heart bled for him?" snorts Steve.

"No," Danny replies, and it's mostly (not) true. "I just uh... put in a good word with the judge. Kid had a scholarship to MIT, and he was really only caught up because the blood banks started turning him away. They let him feed, he helped them run their hits."

Steve looks taken aback. "How much was he drinking that blood banks turned him away?"

"No more than normal for a college-age vampire. Hawaii just doesn't have all that much synthetic blood, and he'd gone through the local stores in a couple weeks. They thought he was a junkie or something, so they didn't bother calling in from other areas."

Steve looks incredulous. "They can't have _that_ little."

Danny pauses to swallow. "They _do_ have that little. Basically no vampires live here, Steve, and the ones that do are old and wealthy, meaning they don't need that much blood in the first place, and what they need, they personally import. It's part of what drives vampires away from the islands -- besides all the sunshine and heat."

"Huh." Steve blinks as they pull into the drive.

As they step out of the car, Steve does a clear double take. They're in front of a commune of sorts -- an open-air housing, clothing encouraged-but-optional sort of place. It positively _reeks_ of weed. 

"You sure this is the right guy?" Steve glances about.

"Certain," Danny answers. Bag in tow, he deftly sidesteps a wandering chicken as he heads inside (or as "inside" as a glorified roof on stilts lets you be). "Kid's a genius, at least for 45 minutes of the day."

"The rest of the time?"

"Baked like a _potato_."

"Ah. _Pakalolo_ ," Steve chuffs.

"He says it helps him see patterns, and all code is basically patterns." Danny half shrugs. "Whatever works for him. Better than heroin."

Toast doesn't notice them until Danny unceremoniously dumps the candy and snacks onto the table in front of him. He closes his laptop and perks up.

"Oh, my. Dessert before dinner." He pulls his headphones off, sets his laptop aside, and turns around. "Or maybe dessert before dessert. Jersey, aloha."

Steve gives him an intense side eye at that line, but Danny pays him no mind. "Hey, Toast."

"You're lookin' all _kama'aina_ ," Toast chuckles. "Tie really sells it."

"Keep makin' fun of me, I'll take those back to the store." Danny crosses his arms. "Look, I need a favor. Grab your stuff."

Toast lights up with child-like glee. "This means what I think it means?"

Danny rolls his eyes. _"Yes._ Half a pint. I still have a job to do."

Once Toast scrambles off to grab what he needs, Steve flicks his face.

Danny startles. "The hell, Steven?"

"Just making sure you aren't charmed," he whispers. "Half a pint? You're feeding this guy?"

"Yes, I am," hisses Danny. "I don't see why that's such a problem."

Steve stares back. "...You fed him the first time, didn't you? At some point when you were processing him."

"...Maybe," Danny crosses his arms.

"Bleeding heart," Steve teases, smirking. Danny flips him off.

\--o--

He feeds Toast on the way, largely because he spends the entire ride staring at his neck. As much as he trusts Toast is entirely too docile to spring at him, he still much prefers not having so much attention on his jugular.

Craning his arm into the backseat is more painful than the fangs in his flesh, though that's probably more because of Toast's spit than anything. Not that Danny really cares, since the vampire-mix pulls away before he starts to get dizzy.

He starts hosing another pack of graham crackers, while Toast practically melts into the backseat. Danny's pretty sure he'd be purring, if he were able to. Or maybe he just isn't -- he doesn't remember if vampires can purr or not.

"Do your fellow commune members not feed you?" Steve asks.

"They do, but Jersey's blood here is a --" Toast gives a chef's kiss. "-- delicacy. Who am I to turn down such a treat?"

"Relax, Steve. He's not gonna go feral." Danny waves a hand at the siren's narrowed eyes. "I don't think he's physically capable of going feral."

True to his words, Toast has all but melted into the backseat within the past five seconds. Danny isn't sure how he went from speaking and coherent to completely out of it, but that's Toast.

They arrive back at Lowrey’s house not long after, and Steve launches himself out of the car before slamming the door. Danny blinks, both confused and a little irritated at the abuse of his car. He follows as Steve all but drags Toast into the building, much to Danny's amusement. Toast is entirely too out of it to be angry (though Danny doubts he would be even if he weren't blazed), and is more so a tangle of limbs stumbling after the angry SEAL. The siren manhandles him into a seat in front of the computers, then shoves him forward. Toast only chuffs, adjusts himself, then sets about getting acquainted with the system.

Watching Steve grow more and more irritated with Toast's slower (not even slow -- Danny's seen slow, sees it every time he opens his computer) pace is arguably the highlight of his day. He's not sure why the SEAL is so incredibly irritated by him, but seeing him completely unable to move the younger man is _hilarious_ , especially after this morning. He bites back a snort as Steve tries to hurry Toast along. As if you could rush a stoner into anything. Besides, Toast works fast once he gets into it. Faster if he's high. His methods rely less on coordination and more on whatever part of his genes or training let him manipulate and understand those ones and zeroes. Danny's still amazed watching him flick through code with little more than his mind.

He still says no when the vampire-mix asks to smoke.

It turns out not to matter much, since not long after the kid is straightening up, looking shocked. "Woah. This is unreal... like, _unreal_ . This guy... _woah..._ "

"Define 'woah' for us," snaps Steve. Toast is entirely too high off awe and weed to notice the snark.

"He made a skeleton key... He actually made a digital skeleton key..." He pushes himself back from the screens, rakes a hand through his hair. "Whoever has that could crack open government security like an egg. Look." He pulls up Oahu's electrical grid, then Honolulu Airport's radar, and then he lets out another amazed, "Woah..."

Danny blinks. He blinks again. "With these computers, Roland did?"

"No, no... these are just archives... the actual program is..." Toast pauses, then turns to an empty slot in a piece of machinery, one that looks like something had been hastily ripped out. "It was probably right in there."

"So this is what he wanted to show General Nathanson," Steve murmurs, "and it's what got him kidnapped. Whoever has him, has the key, can do basically whatever they want."

There's a beat of silence.

"...So, Jersey, can I top off that blood from earlier?"

\--o--

Another half pint of blood later, they leave Toast behind at the house in case they need him, and they're on their way to HQ. Steve, surprisingly, lets him drive.

"Headache," he mutters.

 _Migraine_ , Danny thinks. "Advil in the glovebox."

Steve downs four and sinks into the passenger seat, eyes closed and face scrunched. Danny frowns.

"Want me to take you home?" Danny offers.

"No." Steve waves him off. "Think it was just Toast. Said he was a mix, right? Something electrical?"

"Yeah?"

"That's it. Fucks with my electroreception. I'll be fine."

Oh. Fuck. Danny feels like an absolute piece of shit for laughing at him now. "In how long?" he asks, because he will absolutely force McGarrett into his house if need be.

"Hour? Hour and a half? Not sure, it's been a while since something like this." Steve scrubs his face. "Next time, you're seeing Toast on your own."

Danny grimaces. "Can do."

The siren seems marginally better by the time they get to the palace, enough that Danny's pretty sure he won't need to OD on ibuprofen to keep moving. They meet Chin at the tech table, and he wastes no time delivering his findings.

"Sergei's at Queens with an HPD detail. Lost a lot of blood, but he'll pull through," he informs them (see: Danny). "Flew in from Serbia two months ago with one Drago Zankovic -- the boss, as far as I can tell. He paid for the tickets and they both traveled on doctored passports."

Danny frowns. "There were three guys on the traffic cam."

"Go further back," Steve says. "Show me all Serbian passports in Hawaii in the last six months."

Chin pulls up a gaggle of faces, but it only takes a moment for Danny to hone in on one of interest: Natalie's. 

Natalie. Who's currently with Kono and Evan. Who helped kidnap Evan's dad.

"That one." He points at Natalie -- _Nadia_ \-- and then he's scrambling to his car, leaving a confused Chin and Steve in his wake.

\--o--

Somehow, between being the first out and Steve arriving, the siren commandeers his car keys and forces Danny into the passenger seat. If he weren't so concerned about Kono and Evan, he might protest. As it is, he waits as patiently as he can while Steve dials Kono's number.

_"Steve?"_

Hearing Kono's voice gives him more relief than he'll ever admit, but he can detect undertones of distress in there. It perks him up, makes him anxious, which in turn puts the other two men on edge.

"Am I on speaker, Kono?" Steve asks.

_"No."_

"Natalie's working with the Serbs. We're on the way to her house. Where are you?"

_"Yeah, everything's great."_

If Danny hadn't thought Kono was in trouble before, he knew for a fact she was now.

"Copy that. Just stay on the line as long as you can; we're running a trace."

Behind him, Danny hears Chin begin to do exactly that, and he feels more useless than ever. He doesn't like it.

"Can you tell us where you are?"

_"Yeah, I may even take Evan out to Mokuleia Beach for a swim."_

"So you're heading north."

_"Exactly."_

And then Danny hears the phone thump against something, and then the call goes dead.

"They made her," he mutters. "Probably ditched the phone on the road. Trace is gonna be useless."

There are a few minutes of anxious, upset silence (in which he can smell the rage and worry coming off Chin in waves, enough that he can tell he's barely keeping back his fangs) and then another call, this time to Danny's phone. Toast.

Naturally, Steve has it in his hand and answers for him.

"What's up, Toast?" He tries to push down both the rising irritation and the worry in his voice.

"I don't wanna freak you out, but... the skeleton key just came online."

 _Shit_.

Before he can get another word out, Toast is muttering a stream of _no, no, no_. "The radar just went down."

"Can we trace it?" Steve asks, shoulders tight and tense.

"Already tried, and no. Whatever it is just took down the Honolulu approach radar."

"So someone can fly in or out undetected," says Chin.

As if on cue, a private jet passes ahead, missing any sort of identifying marks. "That's not one of ours," Danny informs them. "Where's it going, is the question."

"Probably to the skydiving school around here," answers Chin. "It's got a landing strip and won't be populated."

Steve nods, and if he breaks the speed limit getting there, well, Danny pretends not to see it.

\--o--

After an agonizingly long 8 minute drive, and another 3 minutes of gearing up, Danny, Chin (who's carrying a shotgun with such ease that Danny fears for the person Kono falls in love with), and Steve approach the hangar. They pause just outside the side door, and Danny asks, "How are we taking the building?"

Steve... defers to him. Shockingly. (Part of him wants to stop being shocked at it, and the other part is still angry he can't drive his own damn car.) "What are you thinking?"

"I think that if we can get our eyes on our people, we go in hot," replies Danny, then pauses. "And I'll be frank with you, there's a non-zero chance I might shift in there, so it's kind of a given either way."

Steve cocks his head. "The full moon's like three weeks away."

"There's three innocents in there, one of which is a child, one of which is the father of that child, and one of which is our rookie teammate who graduates the academy today."

That seems to explain it well enough, since Steve only nods and begins to move out. They reach the front of the building, where Steve and Chin post on the left, and Danny ducks beneath the window to take right. Steve peaks into the window just long enough to signal to Kono that they're entering from above, and then they're moving again.

Danny holsters his weapon and starts climbing the nearby ladder, moving with all the alacrity his body can give him. His gun is back in his grip as soon as his hands are free, and he enters the second floor opposite Steve.

He manages to restrain himself throughout the operation, channeling his energy into accuracy. He drops one, two, three men, has a mild heart attack when Steve fucking swings down to ground floor on a hanging chain, then scrambles down the ladder when he smells burning.

His gaze hones in on the blazing propane tanks, no doubt sparked by a stray bullet. He doesn't need Steve's voice scream in his ear to know to get out; his legs are already sprinting for the door. He grabs Lowery on the way, half hauling him forward until the man manages to get his feet beneath him.

The blast sends him tumbling forward, heat licking his back. He turns over with a groan and coughs before his brain remembers that Drago had run out with them, too. 

He's on his feet far before his body is ready to be, which makes him pause until the ground isn't spinning so much. Distantly, he registers Steve moving past him, shouting orders at Drago, but it isn't until a few moments later before he can actually move to arrest him.

Steve has him pinned (easily, by the look of things), and he shifts aside to let Danny cuff him.

"Book 'em, Danno," he says, bringing the werewolf's brain to a screeching halt.

"I'm just gonna pretend like I didn't hear that," he answers, frog-marching Drago to his car.

"Don't like it?"

"Don't like it."

"...I think it's endearing."

"It's endearing coming from my daughter, not so much from you."

Drago looks like he has something snide to say, so Danny "accidentally" knocks his head against the door frame while putting him in the back. It keeps him quiet, and pointed glares do the same for Steve.

That is, until Drago is safely in HPD's hands. Then, Steve says, "You still have your Newark uniform, right?"

Danny cocks his head. "Yeah, why?"

"Kono missed her graduation, so I figure it's the least we could do to dress up and give her what she missed."

For a long moment, Danny stares at him, because that is hands-down one of the most wholesome things to come out of Steve's mouth. "Who are you and what did you do with Steven J. McGarrett?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "I can be thoughtful, despite what you may think."

Danny snorts. "Sure, babe. It's at my apartment. Drop yourself off and I'll meet you back at HQ."

\--o--

Danny stands tall (relatively) and proud, shoulder to shoulder with Chin and Steve as Kono exits the locker room. His Newark detective sergeant's uniform feels natural on his skin, more so than anything HPD might've offered. The room is an odd mix of solemn and proud.

Kono seems... almost shocked. Her hair is a mess, bruises blooming on her face, and she's still wearing her clothes from today, but it matters little. She still graduated, and a missed walk across the stage won't change the work she did today, nor all the work she put in to get here.

Steve steps forward first, offering a slim wooden box. Naturally, there's a gun inside -- a Kel-tec 9 mil that leaves Kono thoroughly impressed (and watching Steve preen under her approval is more than a little adorable).

"I'm sorry you were put in danger today," he says, quiet and remorseful. "We care for each other like a family, so, please know we'll always do everything we can to protect you."

Danny offers up his charm of Saint Michael -- something that's been with him for as long as he can remember. "He's the patron saint--" he starts.

"--of law enforcement," finishes Kono. "I've seen cops wear 'em."

Danny chuffs. "Well, pretty sure with that roundhouse kick, you're never gonna need it. My sergeant gave it to me when I graduated from the academy. I've always kept it on me, and it's always kept me safe."

(He and his sergeant had also shared scents, but he thinks that's a little too intimate for here, when none of them are full-shifters and they don't quite get what that might mean.)

Chin gifts her a tactical flashlight, inscribed with kind words Danny can't quite make out. The way it makes Kono's eyes well, though, he thinks it must be something particularly special. 

She breaks when he pins her badge to her shirt, smiling as stray tears flow down her face. When he swears her in, she manages not to let her voice crack the entire time (a feat Danny knows first hand can be difficult). Afterward, she crushes him in a hug, somewhere between hysterical laughter and tears.

Danny edges back, towards his office, intent to let them have their moment. It reminds him of his own family, blood and not, and he doesn't want to intrude. At least, he doesn't intend to until Steve grabs his shoulder.

"Aren't you gonna share scents?" he asks.

Apparently, he'd done some googling, too. How thoughtful. Danny shakes his head. "It's a little too intimate for right now, I think. I'd hate to be on the receiving end of one of those roundhouse kicks."

Steve hums, but it's a sort of hum that says "I'm not going to let this go". Danny gets a sneaking suspicion he's going to be hearing that a _lot_. He doesn't look forward to it.

The werewolf slinks back to his office, hangs up his jacket, and stretches. It's been a very long day, and he still has to figure out how in the fuck he's going to explain "hung a guy off a building" in such a way that they don't immediately get shut down. At least they didn't actually get any information from the guy -- he would've had a stroke if duress was the reason these people walked.

He runs his fingers through his hair. He really, _really_ needs to teach Steve that navy tactics do not fly here. Efficient they may be, at some point, someone's going to walk because he couldn't get that drilled into his head. Or worse, someone's going to get injured or killed because he mistook his squadron of cops for his squadron of equally highly-trained SEALs.

A knock on his open door draws him from his thoughts. Kono stands at the entryway, a soft smile on her face. "We're gonna go out for drinks, to celebrate. You in?"

"'Course. I'll just need to change."

"Great!" Kono brightens. "Also... Steve mentioned something about sharing scents?"

Y'know, he really, _really_ should've seen this coming. This the most predictable move ever, and Danny isn't sure why he thought he might get away with it this time.

'It's just something we did back at our old precinct." Danny waves her off. "It's--"

"--a pretty big deal. At least, that's what Steve said. He also said you'd probably try to brush it off, and not to let you."

 _That_ , at least, doesn't come as much of a shock. 

"I didn't want to press my welcome, so to speak. Sharing scents is an intimate thing, and I figured it wouldn't make all that much sense to a team of partial-shifters."

Kono shakes her head. "Nah, brah. Mū share blood, and I think sirens exchange special calls. You're not alone."

"Oh."

Yeah, that was probably a (lotta) bit presumptuous of him. Oops.

"It's fine. I doubt HPD gave you much impression otherwise." She takes on a momentary glower, as if Danny being ostracized personally offended her. Danny feels his heart warm a little; they'd barely known each other a week, but she was already rearing to come to his defense. (He supposes she had practice with Chin, but all the same, it makes him feel a little less out of place in this pineapple-infested hellhole.)

Danny shrugs. "It wasn't that bad."

(An _absolute_ lie, but he's really not in the mood to dredge that up right now.)

Kono clearly sees right through him (both the lie and the reasoning) and simply approaches with a sigh. "So how do you do this?"

"Sorta like a hug, except from a stalker. A concerning amount of sniffing and rooting, y'know?" replies Danny, grinning. "Just promise you won't give me a personal introduction to one of those roundhouse kicks, yeah?"

"Keep your hands where they belong and we won't have a problem." Despite her words, Kono is smiling, and she's the one to initiate the embrace.

Danny doesn't mind, not at all. Mostly because Kono's become a little too much like a little sister to be any sort of attractive anymore (at least, outside of an objective sense, like complimenting a family member), but also because he's not a sleazy douchebag like that. 

(He really feels bad for whoever Kono falls in love with; an angry man with a shotgun riding in on a huge snarling werewolf is really not what you want to see when you come to pick up your date.)

He buries his face in the crook of her neck and breathes deep. She smells of the ocean, naturally -- in part because of her aquatic nature and in part because of her constant surfing and swimming. Mixed in, though, beneath the lingering scents of the day, is something he pins as uniquely Kono: something warm and brazen and _her_. He breathes it in deep, rolls it in his mind until it's all he can think about, catalogs each and every facet of it. It finds an easy place amid the smell of family, of pack. 

Something in him shifts as it locks into place, and he steps back. She smells no stronger than she might've before, but Danny knows without a doubt now that he could track the barest wisp from that memory alone. He offers her a kind, heartfelt smile. Scenting is soothing in a way he'd somewhat forgotten, what with barely being able to see the one pack member he was close enough to do so with. Almost instinctively, he offers a wrist. It seems to startle Kono, but only for a moment before she grins wide, flashing those pearly fangs of hers. "You sure, brah?"

"Wouldn't be much of sharing scents if I didn't reciprocate, would it?" snorts Danny. "Go for it."

Kono needs no further invitation. Gently, she takes his wrist. numbs it with a lick, then, surprisingly, only scrapes the skin with her fangs -- deep enough to draw blood, but not actually creating much in the way of puncture wounds. It's enough, though, since she draws away not long after.

"O neg?" she asks.

Rummaging for a tissue to wipe his wrist, Danny nods. "I can't count the pints of blood I've donated through the years."

"For medical or food purposes?"

"Both." He nods towards the bullpen. "Now, c'mon. I gotta change, and I think you'd wanna change too. That, and I have no interest in learning exactly what Chin calls that shotgun."

Kono rolls her eyes, but there's a fond smile on her face, and Danny thinks this task force might not be the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first: thank yall for reading!! Honestly, seeing the notifications in my inbox makes my day. I probably wouldn't have continued if not for the comments and kudos, so really, thank you.
> 
> Next chapter is probably not gonna follow a case. Instead, it’s probably gonna be some team bonding, or something else more slice of life. A break from the mayhem, if you will.
> 
> Secondly: plugging other fics that I really like that fall into the same sort of urban fantasy vibe. Specifically, I want to plug "Dragons" by EmpressAkita over on ff.net. It's what inspired me to write my own fantasy fic, and it comes with pictures!! Go send them some love, they really deserve it.
> 
> The fic: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12658551/1/
> 
> The art: https://sta.sh/27xarp44tue
> 
> The collar idea comes from this NCIS series, The Seelie Court. It's very well written, as I recall, and it's another major inspiration of mine. Iirc, it has collars for its werewolves when they go into the field. I don't believe the collars are enchanted to shift into clothing, though. In any case, I won't take credit for the idea. Go read it! It's good!
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/series/315215


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